


The Enchanted Florist

by uhpockuhlipz



Category: Supergirl (TV 2015)
Genre: F/F, Lena the smitten kitten, So fluffy I'm gonna die
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-15
Updated: 2017-02-15
Packaged: 2018-09-24 15:59:12
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,438
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9769388
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/uhpockuhlipz/pseuds/uhpockuhlipz
Summary: Ruth Campbell has owned this flower shop for over twenty years. She's seen and heard some crazy things, but she knows nothing will compare to the day Lena Luthor walks through the doors.OrThe missing scene from 2.12 where Lena buys Kara flowers.





	

**Author's Note:**

> A tumblr prompt that made me fall in love with an oc. Hope you enjoy. And as usual, you can find me on tumblr @proudlyunicorn (:
> 
> (And hey, if you enjoy this, please check out my other Karlena fic! There's a whole bunch of oneshots and I've got a multichapter au called We Need a New Song that's super gay and somewhat angsty. Thanks guys!)

Ruth Campbell and her husband have run the little floral shop on North Street for over twenty years.

The Enchanted Florist does steady business; there is always someone buying flowers for birthdays or funerals, for rushed, forgotten anniversaries, for holidays, for baby showers. Sometimes even for weddings, though that’s far rarer, as most prefer to go with professionals for that kind of affair.

(Ruth snorts over that. Yeah, some city kid with five years’ experience under their belt could teach Ruth, who’s been gardening since before they were born, a  thing or two about flowers, alright.)

But in all of her twenty years of working in this shop, of all the amusing and touching and irritating stories she’s had to tell, she knows nothing will ever top the day Lena Luthor walks through the doors.

Ruth, who likes to keep up with the times ( _likes to read the gossip rags,_ her husband would say, and Ruth would wave him off), knows immediately who she is. Why, Lena Luthor’s face has been in the news so much lately, and in the pages of Catco Magazine and the like, it would be simply impossible not to recognize her. 

( _Never did believe that girl fell in with her mother,_ Ruth told her husband when the morning news declared Lena innocent on all charges. _Got her thrown in jail in the first place, didn’t she? Buncha idiots._ )

The youngest of the Luthor clan is smaller in person than Ruth would have imagined, though she’d added some height with the ankle breakers she’s sporting. Maybe it’s because she always holds herself so straight in the media reports, or because the magazines kind of paint her as larger than life. She’s got presence normally, but here and now, she looks pretty uncertain with herself. The contrast has Ruth raising her eyebrows as she steps around the counter.

“Don’t tell me the CEO of L-Corp is intimidated by some flowers,” she guffaws and the Luthor girl turns, eyes flashing with something Ruth can’t place before she calms and smiles slightly.  


“Only when the flowers are important,” she replies, and Ruth’s eyebrows shoot higher.  


“You mean they’re for someone important,” she shoots back, jabbing a finger in Lena’s direction. “Can’t pull the wool over my eyes, girlie. I’ve been in this business a long time.” She extends her arm, offers her hand. “Ruth Campbell. Never believed you had anything to do with your mother breaking out of prison, or that other fella either.” Her lips purse. This poor girl’s been through hell, testifying first against her brother and now her mother too. Then going through everything else?  


Looks tough through all of it too. Maybe a little defiant even, which Ruth appreciates. She also appreciates the firmness of the handshake she receives. This girl’s no simpering fool. She knows what she’s after. A little shy with it, but she knows.

“You’ve caught me,” Lena murmurs, and Ruth watches her eyes circle the shop again, flitting from flower to flower. “They’re flowers for someone very important to me. Someone who…” She sighs a little and reaches out, fingers dusting over the petals of a tulip.   


(A red tulip, Ruth notes automatically. Declaration of true love.)

“Someone you care about,” she murmurs, softer now. Lena’s eyes return to hers, soft and green and hesitant. Ruth watches her catch her lower lip between her teeth a moment before she turns away and thinks, _you’re going to worry off all that pretty lipstick, girl,_ but doesn’t point it out. She just lets her wander, watches her fingers skim over petals and stems and vases until she’s almost certain that she will leave without purchasing a single one, a victim of her own second-guessing.

But Lena’s got more steel than she thinks because she whirls back suddenly, sets her shoulders, and gives herself a small, bolstering nod.

“I care very much about this person,” she agrees at last, her voice stronger now than before. “About her _.”_ And the emphasis on that single pronoun has Ruth’s eyebrows disappearing up beneath her bangs. A her, huh? There’s one the gossip rags never got wind of. 

“So what are you looking to get her, Miss Luthor?” she asks without hesitation.  


( _Why do they always make a fuss over this stuff?_ Ruth had once complained, watching a news report about an anti-gay rally at the capital. _If some lady walks into my shop wanting to get some flowers for another lady, it’s none of my never mind. Her money’s as green as the next man’s.)_

But Ruth had noticed over the years that when she gets gay customers in here, there’s always an enormous sense of relief from them when she doesn’t react beyond correcting her pronoun usage. She’s learned that kind of acceptance means more to some people than others, and Lena Luthor is no exception. The taut line of her shoulders relaxes and she sighs, smiles. 

“Please, just Lena is fine.”

“Lena then. So tell me what you’re looking for. What’s she like?”  


 “She’s…” Lena laughs a little, combs a hand through all that fabulous, dark hair. “She’s absolutely wonderful. Kind and thoughtful. Loyal. A very good friend. I’m looking to say… thank you, I suppose.” Her eyes flicker away again. 

Ruth snorts.

“Just thank you, huh? Well if that’s all you’re after, you could do some nice chrysanthemums. Best way to thank someone for being such a wonderful… _friend.”_ She snorts out another disbelieving laugh and Lena looks at her, lips twitching like she’s tempted to laugh at herself.

“I’m thinking something a little… grander.”  


“Grander, huh?” Enjoying herself now, Ruth waves to the roses. “You can never go wrong with a dozen of these. Two dozen, even. I’ve learned over the years that when someone wants to make a grand gesture, it’s usually the quantity that matters the most.”  


“Is that so?” Lena seems to consider, looking around one more time before nodding to herself. “Right. Well in that case, I’ll take them all.”  


Ruth blinks. “All the roses?”

This time it’s Lena whose eyebrows lift, her mouth curling into a slow, mischievous smile. “All of your flowers. I’m going to buy out your shop.” Mind made up, Lena Luthor strides over to the front desk, marking down the address she wants them sent to on a delivery request slip. “They’re for Kara Danvers. They know her office number at the security desk. It’s absolutely imperative these all get delivered to her tomorrow during her lunch break. She’ll be visiting my office so the place will be empty. James Olsen can let them in. I’ll send a truck to pick them up, as well as men to load and unload them, so don’t worry about that part. Just give them this address.”

Ruth stands stock still, watching her with wide eyes.

In all her years, she’s never been so shocked as she is right now. 

Lena turns back to her with a wide, determined smile, pressing the slip into her palm, as well as a business card. “Once you calculate the cost, please give me a call and I will have your payment ready for you. Thanks so much for your help today. your shop is so lovely.” she hesitates and then asks, “Do you think she’ll like them?”

Ruth finally seems to gain control of her tongue. “Lena honey, if she doesn’t, I’ll eat my left shoe.” She squeezes her hand, finds it almost funny that she’s trying to reassure Lena Luthor that a girl is going to like her flowers. Like talking to her own grandkids. “And if this isn’t a statement, I don’t know what is. But a word of advice, if it’s welcome?”

“Of course.”  


“Actually talking to her about being in love with her might be helpful.”   


Ruth cackles at Lena’s shocked expression and pats her cheek gently, affectionately. “You’re a good egg, Lena Luthor. Let me just flip my sign to closed and I’ll get on calculating your cost for you.”

They say their goodbyes and Lena Luthor leaves her shop again. Ruth can see her through the windows, sees her transform into the version of herself people are used to seeing as she crosses the street to a waiting car.

As soon as she’s gone, Ruth calls up her husband. They won’t have another delivery of flowers until the end of the week and she’s going to convince him to use that free time to vacation in Metropolis to visit their kids and grandkids. Helping Lena Luthor made her ache with missing them.

And besides, who else is she gonna tell this story to?


End file.
